


A Slight Inconvenience

by emjay45151



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Clint doesn't like SHIELD much anymore, For once it's not Loki that can't talk, Gen, Loki is scheming, Muteness, Uhhh Wade just kinda turned up and idk why, and things like clowns, circuses, platonic Thor/Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emjay45151/pseuds/emjay45151
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis is known for her snarky rants. In fact, she prides herself on them. However, not everyone is as fond of her ability as she is. On an ordinary day (as ordinary as it can be with the Avengers anyway) a certain someone decides that she doesn't really need it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loki pulls an Ursula

“Hello Miss Lewis. I require something from you. ”

Darcy, standing over a sink, shrieks louder than Cap when Tony grabbed his ass that first time and promptly drops the mug she was trying to get coffee stains out of. Goddamn scientists who leave half empty mugs in the weirdest places. And now sneak up on her out of the blue.

“Jesus H. Christ on a bicycle! What the hell?!” Darcy yells as she avoids the mug shards that are now everywhere. 

“Wait… Oh. Oh. Oooooh.”

She sees Green. Lots of it. And armor. And horns. Oh, this is not good. Not good at all. Quickly backtracking, Darcy tries to get herself out of the royal mess this is sure to turn into. 

“Uh… Hi. How are you? Can I help you? Do I need to kneel or something? Cause I can totally do that. Well, I won’t kneel to do THAT. I’m not that scared of you yet. Though you are very scary and impressively god-like” 

Smooth, Darce. Real smooth. That’s a great way to keep the big evil super god thing from killing you. And the expression on said god’s face is very quickly moving towards annoyance. 

“Enough.” Loki growls. “Your words are meaningless. They simply postpone the inevitable. I require something from you to give them. I think I now know what that should be.”

Oh crap. She really should be yelling for Clint right about now. And why hasn’t JARVIS done anything?

“Errr, no chance this is going to go down like Howl and Calcifer and the hair –“

Her snarky reply is cut off as Loki simply raises an arm, grabs her by the throat and squeezes. 

No. Air. Oh god. Oh god. 

Hah. God. For a moment she still has enough air left to appreciate the irony of that. 

Not for long though. After a few precious seconds, her fight or flight response kicks in. Darcy starts flailing, kicking and thrashing, all with the hope that’ll she hit a sensitive spot and break his hold just for a minute so she can get one precious breath of air. Just when the multitudes of dark spots are starting to give way to total darkness he lets go.

Darcy, wheezing, collapses to the floor. 

“Thank you Miss Lewis. I greatly appreciate this. Not that you had a choice really, but still.” Loki drawls over her prone form. 

Still wheezing, Darcy regains control of her body just long enough to see Loki disappear holding something oddly…. glowy in his hand.

Well, she thinks. That could have gone worse, but it definitely wasn’t a ride on a magical unicorn. Okay Darcy. You’re still breathing and all limbs appear to be intact. Now would be a really good time to scream for Clint. 

Taking as deep of a breath as her abused throat will allow she yells “-----“

Wait what? Why didn’t that work? Darcy tries again and “---.” Nothing. Zilch. Zip. Nada. 

You know what they say; the third time is the charm. One last go and “----.” Nothing. Again. 

Oh this is priceless. Darcy Lewis, Queen of Rambling, Snark and everything verbal, has no voice. 

 

\----

 

Okay, Darcy. Don’t panic. It could just be residual damage from the whole throat-choking thing. 

Or, knowing Loki, it could be something else. Taking into account some of the things he said before he tried to practically decapitate her, it was looking more and more like she should place it firmly in the “Or Something Else” category.

Now she’s starting to panic. Deep breath. Ow. That really hurts. Not important Darcy. What should she do? JARVIS is out, cause she can’t communicate with him. And why hasn’t he said anything yet? She’d have thought the arrival of Loki Laufeyson in the Avengers Tower would have raised at least a few eyebrows, and at most the arrival of shit-tons of SHIELD agents. 

Avengers Tower. Which is where all the Avengers live. One of those Avengers is a doctor and another has the best doctors in the world at his beck and call. Not her worst idea ever. 

It was probably best to go see Banner first. Voluntarily facing Tony Stark and being incapable of defending herself from his snark would just be masochistic.

Having decided on a plan of action, Darcy slowly peels herself off the kitchen floor checking for any unnoticed injuries as she goes. With nothing inhibiting her mobility, besides some serious post-adrenaline shakes at least, she takes a few tentative steps towards her door.

The movement is what seems to break the wall between her and sheer panic. Stifling back sobs she moves quickly out towards the hallway, with only one clear thought still in her head: Get to Banner. He can fix this. 

Practically sprinting by this point, Darcy takes the stairs two at a time to Banner’s lab three floors down. This far up in the Tower no one ever uses them, and the last thing she wants is some random Stark flunky seeing her in the elevators and running straight to Pepper and consequently to Tony. 

Bursting through the door, she catapults herself over a desk positioned across the entrance to the labyrinth of glass walled labs. Two lefts and right later she hits, no literally, smashes into Bruce’s lab. Thunk. 

Good job. Do MORE damage to yourself. 

She frantically types her access code into the keypad on the door, shaking fingers inhibiting her progress, but Banner opens the door for her first.

“Darcy? My god, are you okay? Come in, quickly.” Taking in her rushed breathing and by now ruined mascara, Bruce holds the door wide for her, ever cautious of his personal space.

She walks in and finds the nearest chair. She is still trying to stop her hands from shaking when a brown paper bag is thrust in front of her face.

“Here. It should help with the hyperventilating.” Calmly, Bruce squats down in front of her, below eye level, and grabs her hand. “Now, take a few minutes and then try to tell me what happened.” 

Deep breaths. You can do this Darcy. 

“-----“ And nothing comes out again. How on earth is she supposed to explain what the problem is when she literally can’t explain? 

Frustrated, she lets out something between an animalistic growl and a wail. 

“Darcy? What’s wrong?” Bruce asks again, this time taking a few moments to look her over more thoroughly. He doesn’t need to go any further than her neck. Now that he’s sure she’s not going to pass out, he can see the giant, hand sized bruises on her neck. 

Bruce goes eerily still. 

“I see.” A simple statement that seems to convey pure rage without ever actually letting it leak through. Still in control, even when purely pissed off, that was Bruce.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner?” The AI asks in his quintessential British butler voice. 

“Can you please send everyone up here, along with the security footage from Darcy’s rooms? We seem to have had a breach that resulted in her being… injured.”

There is a pregnant pause.

“I will send everyone to you Dr. Banner, but from what I can tell Miss Lewis is still in her apartment. There also appears to be nothing of significance on the security footage.”

Darcy, listening to this, just drops her head down onto the desk in front of her. Thunk. Ow. 

Well crap.


	2. It's not always Tony's fault and all Darcy wants is an icepack.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy still can't talk and JARVIS is broken.

Lifting her head from the desk, Darcy gives Bruce a plaintive look. Please lords don’t let him tell Tony that she broke JARVIS somehow. 

“Um, JARVIS? Darcy is right here. And she is most definitely injured.”

If it was possible for the AI to feel astonishment, the silence that followed conveyed it all. 

“I will investigate this immediately Dr. Banner. If there is nothing else you need, I will inform Sir of this development and put the security teams on alert.”

“Allright, ahhhh, lets get you checked out fully before anyone starts to panic.” Bruce suggests. 

Darcy snorts and looks at him. Does he think she isn’t panicking?

“Besides you I mean. JARVIS, don’t bother security and only send Tony, Pepper and Cap up. We’ll figure something out. “ Bruce sighs.

Wait. Darcy wants Clint here. Granted he’ll probably break things when he finds out she’s injured, but it’ll make her feel better. And he can run interference on Tony. Only, how does she tell Bruce and JARVIS this?

Her eyes light upon the multiple whiteboards that are placed around the room and she leaps for the closest one. Grabbing the first marker she see, which of course is GREEN, she finds a space with fewer equations than the rest of the board and writes: CLINT. PLEASE. 

“Oh. Okay. JARVIS, Darcy wants Clint here too. Can you –“ Bruce is cut off by an annoyed AI

“Of course. I will notify Agent Barton as well. Sir and the Captain are a few minutes away, but Ms. Potts will be a little longer. If that is all, I am going to concentrate on investigating how this could have happened without my knowledge. “

Darcy and Bruce just stare at each other. This the first time they’ve ever been interrupted by the AI and heard anything resembling anger from him. He must like Darcy a lot more than they all thought.

“Right, good. Thanks JARVIS. Darcy can you sit up on that table so I can examine your neck?” Bruce points to a sturdy looking metal table that has random notebooks strewn on one end. 

Darcy moves towards the table, with less of a rush. The adrenaline must be wearing off cause all she feels is so, so tired. A bath, an icepack, bed and Clint’s arms sounds heavenly. 

Bruce moves to stand in front of her, holding what looks like a mini flashlight.

“Darcy, can you follow the light with your eyes for me? I know it sounds stupid, but I just want to make sure there isn’t any residual neurological damage from the lack of oxygen. “ 

Darcy nods, and without moving her neck, cause it’s really starting to hurt, she follows the little point of light back and forth three times. 

“Good. Bear with me here. How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“---“ She looks like a gaping fish. Damn. Um, how to do this? She holds up the same four fingers that he is. 

“Still can’t talk?” Bruce asks. 

Darcy gives him a “duh” look. She just enjoys imitating a mime. A mime with limited neck mobility, but a mime nonetheless. 

“No worries, Darcy. We’ll figure that out.” He places his wonderfully cold hands on both sides of her neck, careful to leave the front of her neck untouched. “But first, can you lean your head to both sides? I’ll be supporting your neck, just in case.”

Darcy complies. It hurts like hell, but she can do it. And she lets him know that with a grotesque facial expression. 

“Hurts? That’s good; it means no nerve damage. We can get you some pain meds for it. “

The beeping of the keypad alerts doctor and patient to the first of the requested visitors.

It’s Tony. Wonderful. At least he has Steve with him. 

“Yo doc. JARVIS said something was urgent?” Tony swaggers into the lab, but straightens up as soon as he sees that disaster that it Darcy. 

“Damn. What happened? And how come I didn’t hear about it sooner?”

Miss Lewis, are you alright?” Steve asks compassionately, stepping to her side. 

Darcy just nods, unable to make eye contact. 

“Ahh, I don’t actually know what happened. It just occurred and Darcy’s vocal abilities are…severely limited at the moment.” Bruce replies. 

“JARVIS appears to have no recordings of the event. He is also having trouble tracking Darcy’s location within the Tower. “ Bruce informs the pair. “She doesn’t appear to have any lasting injuries besides the vocal issue though.”

Tony and Steve look dumbfounded. 

“JARVIS! How come you didn’t tell me that you were glitching?” Tony demands.

“My apologies Sir, but I do not have any concrete evidence of where the error in my system may be and did not see a reason to unduly worry you. Miss Potts has been worried about your blood pressure recently.” 

The door beeps again. 

“Please tell me that no one’s been blown up or that I have to fill out more forms over destruction of public property cause the Hulk got out?” Pepper asks as she walks in the door. Then she see’s Darcy and her neck.

“Oh. Sweetheart.” Pepper simply walks over to the younger woman and wraps her in a hug. 

“Care to explain anyone?” Pepper glares at the assembled men, lingering on her husband last. 

“Wasn’t my fault!” Tony cries. 

“Whose fault was it?” she glares, now sitting next to Darcy on the table.

All three men fidget. 

Steve answers first. “We were…uh… just getting to that. It seems that Darcy can’t talk at the moment, and JARVIS doesn’t know.”

Now that causes Pepper’s very well groomed eyebrows to rise. 

“What? JARVIS?” she asks incredulously.

“Yup, Tony’s talking house of the future seems to be having some issues with security. “ Steve states with a hint of glee.

Darcy is just watching the interchange with her head on Pepper’s shoulder. Hopefully they’ll remember that she can’t talk before she has to do something drastic to get their attention, like throw a hammer at Bruce. An icepack is quickly moving to the top of her priority list.

“Hey! JARVIS is more than a talking house! He is a very complex artificial intelligence, thank you very much.” Tony defends his creation.

“Thank you Sir. However, Captain Roger’s statement was not incorrect. I am running a diagnostic at the moment but nothing seems to be evidently wrong.”

A muted “DARRRCCCYYY!” is heard from the hallway. Clint runs around the corner, and through the lab door that just has been left open by this point. No point in wearing the keypad out with all the people coming and going. He stops a few feet in front of Darcy, staring at her neck. 

He slowly turns towards Tony, fury showing on his normally calm face. 

“What. Happened. “ He barks out. 

“Why do you all think it was me?!” Tony laments.

Darcy rolls her eyes. Here we go again. Hopefully she’ll get that icepack before Steve gets laid for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 2! I'm just kinda banging this out for kicks right now.I don't really have a plan, so no guarantees I'll be uploading this fast in the future.
> 
> Hope you like it. I'm finding it's really hard to write JARVIS' formal syntax w/o it bleeding over into the other characters.


	3. Darcy gets a seriously awesome kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce does his doctor thing and Darcy has some maybe good news.

_One day later…_

“I’m sorry, but there simply is no medical explanation for why she can’t talk.”

By this point Darcy (who Clint still hasn’t let out of his sight) is sitting on Clint’s lap in one of the SHIELD medical wing consultation rooms. Bruce and a SHIELD doctor are standing in front of her in the only free space left by the other five people in the small room. Jane, Pepper, Natasha, Coulson, and Fury were all crammed in with her in hopes of figuring out what exactly Loki had done.

The day before, after the guys got all the testosterone worked out, she had used one of Bruce’s whiteboards to write a short version of what had happened. The guys about shit their pants when the first word she wrote was LOKI, and Clint actually broke a couple test tubes like Darcy thought he might.

So once it was worked out, again, and Pepper had the brains to call Coulson, Darcy was whisked off (Clint attached) with all the SHIELD efficiency and black SUV’s. Tony disappeared to go try and figure out how to magic proof JARVIS and Steve went back, well, wherever he goes. The albino SHIELD monkeys (what Darcy named the white coated doctors) poked, prodded, and stuck her in a CAT scan thing that seemed like it might do more harm than good.

If Darcy had thought them stealing her IPod was frustrating, this was downright infuriating. She was tired, in pain, AND had no way of communicating with them about any of this. Also, no one had given her an icepack or pain meds yet. (She had totally stolen like six lollipops from that jar though.) But, four hours in, when they wanted to stick her in another tube thing she lost it.

Not giving a crap that nothing was coming out, she stood up and gave the SHIELD doctor a piece of her mind.

“------!!!!” Emphatically pointing her finger in his chest, Darcy mouthed every obscenity she knew and then started crying.

Damn she was doing that a lot. The crying thing anyway. The yelling thing was not so new.

At this point Coulson used his oh so highly trained secret agent brain to deduce that maybe they should stopped prodding Darcy for a bit.

Darcy was sent home, Clint still attached and not saying much besides grunts in the affirmative or negative, where she promptly collapsed into bed and slept for ten hours.

Ignoring the conversation that had been started about Loki, Darcy spaces out. It doesn't matter to her who had done it to her, just that it had been.

Armed with the fabulous notebook that had Darcy as a superhero on the cover (Steve), a ridiculously expensive scarf (Pepper) covering the bruises, and an über pen (Tony) that she was pretty sure had a missile in it, Darcy has to face the fact that this might be permanent.

Now should really be the time to panic. But she's oddly calm. All the emotional upheaval of the past day or so has left her kind of numb.

Fury, hearing the diagnosis and satisfied that his assistant hero-wrangler isn’t going to die or go crazy and kill them all, walks the few steps between him and Coulson, whispers something in his ear and turns to Clint.

“Agent Barton, Romanov, with us. Coulson, I’ll leave you to make sure that Miss Lewis and Dr. Foster get back to the Tower in one piece. I’m assuming Miss Potts’ security will be escorting her back to her office. “

Clint chokes and is probably about to say something very, very stupid when Natasha simply places her hand on his shoulder and squeezes. Still about to mouth off, Darcy intervenes. This clingy, mute, he-man shit. is getting ridiculous. For Christ's sake she's the one with no voice.

Flipping to a clean page in her fuck-awesome notebook she writes:

I’M NOT HUMPTY DUMPTY; I WON’T FALL TO PIECES IF YOU LEAVE ME ALONE FOR A MINUTE. GO. AND REMEMBER: USE YOUR WORDS NOT FISTS.

Tasha ducks her head to hide what is probably a smile and Clint looks like he’s just swallowed a bug.

Not one to ever entirely lose an argument, Clint stands up, with Darcy in his arms princess style, repositions her on the chair and kisses her thoroughly. Like really, really thoroughly, so even Coulson, normally stone faced, looks slightly awkward.

“I’ll come by your apartment as soon as I can. Please don’t go anywhere without an agent or one of the team okay? If simply for my sanity.” Clint asks her quietly.

Darcy just nods, dazed from the kiss that caused what was basically a mouth orgasm.

Clint walks out, giving Fury what can only be described as a seriously chilly shoulder.

Damn that man can kiss. Maybe she should get her voice magically more often if that was the result. Thank the Gods – no scratch that, she really needs to use a better term now – Thank Thor she didn’t run screaming when SHIELD first turned up. Though if she had, she probably wouldn’t be stuck as a mime for an undetermined amount of time.

Natasha follows Clint, still looking down to hide the not-smile. Fury sighs, looks at Coulson and leaves too.

Shaking her head, Darcy scribbles underneath her old message:

LET’S BLOW THIS LOLLIPOP STAND.


	4. Darcy is Optimistic and Clint is Pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I know, I take forever to get chapters up.
> 
> The conflict set-up is complete, and things are gonna start moving soon (which in my time means a week, maybe longer).

Finally alone for the first time in a day and half, Darcy needs to plan. And she finally has that freaking icepack.

No one had said anything about her not continuing to work with the team as their babysitter/wrangler/lackey, but this no voice thing was seriously going to put a crimp in her ability to manage Tony. While her notebook was awesome, sass just didn’t convey the same way via the written word, as she’d found out when trying to use it on Coulson and Jane. Coulson ignored her and Jane just looked offended.

So, you’ve been hanging out with scientists a shit-ton, you can figure out a logical way to deal with this, she thought to herself. There wasn’t really a way to fix the whole having to write everything she wanted to say, except to learn sign language, but that wouldn’t really help, cause the rest of the tower didn’t know it. Though maybe she could make them learn…. The likelihood that at least a couple people at SHIELD knew sign language was pretty freaking high.

But, then she also didn’t want to use up the entire notebook Steve gave her with her daily conversation; that was a waste of a good notebook and paper. Anything, anything… YES! The lab yesterday. What she needed was a portable whiteboard. She could get one at the drugstore down the street, and probably get Steve to make that one look cool too. 

So the list:

1) Find Coulson to find someone to teach us all sign language  
2) Get a whiteboard and some markers

Well that was a slightly pathetic list. 

Head in her hands and fingers tapping rhythmically for a moment, she stares off into space, trying to think of a few more things to make her list a little less anemic. 

3) Get a bell and put it on a string. 

She doesn’t want to accidently surprise Tasha or Clint and end up smooshed against a wall. That would be bad, both for her neck and her relationship with Clint. No need to cause him more angst than he was already going through with this whole Loki took Darcy’s voice debacle. He would probably have an aneurysm if that happened. 

Errrr…. What else is there…? 

Oh. The obvious one.

4) Figure out how to fix this!!!

That was a pretty good list, she thought. Varying levels of difficulty and feasibility, which should keep her pretty occupied. Now to implement said list. The problem with that is trying to leave the Tower without having an entire army as an escort. That one was going to test her problem solving abilities. 

 

\----

 

Clint is still pissed. It's not the same burning anger/panic combo he first felt when he found out Darcy had been attacked. Instead it is a much more subdued, still strong, but smoldering anger. 

Or, in the words of a sniper who doesn’t do emotions: Clint is still pissed. 

And Fury isn’t helping. 

“Barton.” 

Woops. Clint comes back to the person who requires most of his patience to deal with. 

“Sorry.” 

For a man with one eye, Fury manages to glare quite well.

“Ah. Sorry, Sir.” 

“This… isn’t ideal.” Fury states. “Knowing Loki, whatever he needs Darcy’s voice for is so beyond our range of understanding that it’s going to be tough to discover, let alone undo. “

“But there is a plan, correct? Sir.”

“The services Miss Lewis provides to both SHIELD and the planet through her work with Dr. Foster, when compared to the possibility of encountering antagonistic non-humanoid life forms during the investigation of this event, aren’t in the supporting interest of this organizations objectives.”

“I don’t understand, sir.” 

Natasha, watching the interchange silently, decodes Fury’s roundabout explanation. 

“What he’s saying is that while SHIELD is going to attempt to help fix Darcy’s voice, they don’t want to bring down the wrath of any alien species that it might piss off, and aren’t going to look very hard. “ 

Fuck. This. Shit.


	5. Darcy tries and Clint throws things

Darcy’s plan didn’t work as well as she had hoped. Bruce caught her halfway down the service stairway, wearing the biggest, ugliest sweatshirt she could find in an attempt to hide her rather distinctive boobs that made her easy to identify on security monitors. Sigh. For a man with such a Zen sounding voice, he was a remarkably good interrogator.  He managed to make her tell him her shopping list in less than five minutes.Now, Darcy is swirling on a chair in Jane’s lab, throwing pieces of paper at Tony, while waiting for Bruce to come back with her rather eclectic list of things.

 

“Darcy, seriously, what are you? Five?” Jane asked exasperated.

 

Darcy had landed a piece of paper on the wiring Tony was helping Jane with and it promptly started smoking.  She was bored and Tony kept trying to make her try to talk and then fail at it, because he thought it was totally hilarious.

 

“Aww, it’s okay. Guppy over there hasn’t got anything better to do right now.” Tony jibed.

 

Darcy glared at him, pointing a finger that promised revenge. And then glared at Jane for not defending her.

 

“What? You do kind of look like one of those fish with the spastic mouths when you try to talk.” Jane answered, trying to hide a smile.

 

That settled it. No more cookies for Jane. She had officially turned to the dark side.

 

“But really. We do need to get this done Darcy. I won’t have anything for you to transfer to the database until then.” Jane continued.

 

Darcy harrumphed and crossed her arms over chest.  What to do? What to do? Was there anything on her list that she could do right now?

 

Ah. Google. She could research sign language and anything to do with people taking people’s voices. That should keep her occupied for at least a little while. Moving past Tony and Jane, fully absorbed in soldering something now, Darcy hit the manual button on the lab door and walked out. JARVIS apparently still couldn’t identify her life signal thing or whatever, so he didn’t know when to open the doors automatically for her.

Snagging the elevator down a floor (manual again), she headed towards her rooms in the tower where she kept her Mac. Tony had offered her the latest Stark tablet, but damn it, she had worked for that computer, and she was going to use it till it died. Plus, all the decals she had worked better with the Apple logo than the SI logo.

 

Sitting down, Darcy cracked her fingers and began to work her finely honed Google abilities. Half an hour later, absorbed in her work, Darcy didn’t notice Natasha had come in until she waved a hand in between her and the computer screen.

 

“You know you could have had JARVIS search that in half the time, right?” Natasha asked, looking at Darcy’s printouts.

 

Darcy just shrugged and made the “whatever” W with her arms. It wasn’t like she had anything else she could do that didn’t involve being followed around by a bunch of SHIELD goons.

 

“Anyway, your presence has been requested by Coulson. I’m here to escort you to HQ.”

 

Sigh. That place again. Oh well.

 

Darcy stood up, and expecting the other woman to lead the way, ended up awkwardly staring at the Russian.  

 

Natasha raised an eyebrow and just looked at her. Oh. Apparently she was supposed to lead the way. Woops.

 

Darcy had always wondered, did Clint learn the eyebrow thing from Natasha or was it the other way around? She was going to have to ask him sometime.

 

Climbing into yet another nondescript black sedan, Darcy started the mind numbingly boring trek to SHIELD HQ. After the fifth time, the strip searches started to get a little tedious.  Apparently unless she was an active SHIELD agent or injured that was the SOP for her getting into the secured levels. She had come close to calling them glorified TSA agents the first time she came through, until her brain caught up with her mouth and she realized that an organization like SHIELD probably would put some of their best guys on doorman duty.

 

Thankfully, she was trusted enough to wander around the few levels her consultant badge got her onto by herself. She was two feet from Coulson’s office door when something came whizzing out of it and smashed itself onto the wall to the left.

 

“DAMNIT PHIL! YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME! THIS IS FRIGGING RIDICULOUS!”

 

Darcy knew that voice, though she’d never heard it quite that angry before. That was definitely the sound of Clint Barton in a full-blown temper tantrum.

 

She didn’t care what Fury or Phil had done to warrant this rage, but throwing things relegated his current mood to the level of temper tantrum. If she hadn’t put up with Thor smashing things when he first arrived when he didn’t know better, she definitely wasn’t going to put up with Clint doing it when he DID know better.

 

Standing in the doorway, she put her hands on her hips and glared, waiting for Clint to register Phil’s changed expression and turn around to look at her.

 

“WHY AREN’T YO- oh. Darcy. “ Clint looked at her for a moment, and suddenly all the fight drained out of him. He slumped onto the chair behind him and put his head in his hands.

 

Phil and Darcy just looked at each other, startled at his sudden mood swing.

 

“Listen, ahh, sorry Darcy. I totally didn’t realize you were right there when I threw that… what was it? A mug? Anyway, I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.” Clint gave her a pleading look.

 

Darcy just looked from him to Phil in her best motherly impersonation.

 

Phil didn’t seem too upset about the loss of his mug, but Darcy wasn’t about to let Clint off the hook quite yet. She looked from Clint to Coulson and back to Clint.

 

Clint, astonishingly, managed to get what she was trying to say with a look, and turned to Phil.

 

“Uh, er, sorry about the mug. I hope it wasn’t important or anything.” Clint said sheepishly.

 

“That’s quite alright Agent Barton. I never bring anything to work that I’m not willing to loose, dishware included. Now, I’m assuming that Miss Lewis was retrieved by Agent Romanov as per my instructions.” He stated more than asked.

 

Darcy nodded.

 

“Good. I mainly wanted to know if there was anything that SHIELD can do to help ease this transition for you?”

 

Darcy nods again, this time making the few letters of American Sign Language she had learned with her hands.

 

“Ah. You want to learn sign language? That’s easily done. I’ll send one of the tutors we keep on staff over the next time the entire team is assembled. Anything else?”

 

Darcy grabbed a pen from the ones scattered around on the floor. Apparently those were the contents of the mug before Clint had thrown it. Writing something on the research she had done earlier and brought with her to the meeting, she handed the packet to Coulson.

 

The first page was basic Wikipedia info on Loki, and across it she had written:

 

_Fix this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. So this is one of my longer chapters, Yay! 
> 
> I'm working on making my characterization of Clint a little better, one of the upcoming chapters will be of the conversation between him and Phil that Darcy walks in at the end of.


	6. Phil explains and Clint throws things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is that scene that Darcy walks in on. Sorry it's taken me so long but my family kinda imploded and writing really wasn't on the top of the to-do list. The full plot has been established by now, so I have some more direction with where I'm going, which means I might be getting more done. No promises. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you like!

After the rather short but incredibly enlightening conversation with Fury, Clint goes straight to Phil. He hasn’t gotten this far without learning some basic people strategy and confronting Fury in a full-blown rage would’ve gotten him, and subsequently Darcy, nowhere. 

Walking down the upper SHIELD-echelon hallways in a manner which could only be called that of a man on a mission, Clint walks into Coulson’s office suite area, through the adjacent section that houses his secretary, only pausing to glance at her long enough to ascertain that Coulson was indeed alone. 

Swinging open the door, Clint walks straight in, thumps his fists down onto Coulson’s desk and starts talking.

“Please, please, by the love of everything holy, tell me that you have a plan that isn’t just hope, some guesses and then leaving Darcy high and dry..”

Coulson looked up from the paperwork he was filling out and sighed. 

“Sit, Clint. This will be a long conversation.”

“NO! I don’t want to sit. I want to do something to fix the fact that my girlfriend, a woman who doesn’t even work for SHIELD officially, is being completely screwed over and isn’t even being told that.” 

Clint’s voice steadily increases, as he gets farther along in his rant. 

“I mean, she wouldn’t even be in this mess if we hadn’t fucking shanghaied her and Foster into New York, and wouldn’t even let Thor see either of them earlier. “

Clint pauses, running his hands through his hair and, unconsciously, moves backwards to sit in the chair placed in front of Phil’s desk.

“AND what have we even gotten from all this? A destroyed city, no contact with Asgard, and a sadistic, homicidal god who is still apparently on the loose. I know Jane and Darcy haven’t made the connection yet, but what happened to Thor delivering Loki to his father for judgment?!”

Finally done, Clint takes a deep breath and glares at Phil. Coulson just looks at him, and calmly answers, obviously used to the rather emphatic rambling. 

“Those are all very good points, and ones that I have myself thought of and reported to Director Fury. Regarding Miss Lewis, the rather unfortunate fact is that there simply isn’t any information from which to start. There are almost no mentions of voice-stealing in the Norse mythology that we can find, and we have no way of contacting Asgard to ask.” 

Clint growls and leans forward to say something but Phil starts talking again.

“However, while I understand Fury’s decision to wait and see on this matter it does not mean that we intend to leave Miss Lewis high and dry."

Coulson pauses, obviously trying to decide if he should say something.

"Or that I myself am happy with the situation. You know that I am quite fond of Miss Lewis. The thing is that we just can’t be proactive in this matter at the moment. All we can do is deal with the consequences, especially if they include angering another alien race. What we can do is help her adjust. There is, quite simply, nothing we can do but wait until something else happens.”

That was not quite what Clint wanted to hear. 

“Goddamnit Phil. She shouldn’t have to adjust. She shouldn’t even have to deal with this for a few days. What’s the point of working for SHIELD if I can’t even do anything about the fact my girlfriend was attacked?!”

Taking a few long drawn out gasps to keep himself under control, Clint looses the battle and grabs the nearest object on Coulson’s and shot puts it into the wall behind him. 

“GODDAMNIT PHIL. YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME. THIS IS FRIGGING RIDICULOUS!”


	7. And things get a little bit worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY. I'm working as a camp counselor which means very little technology time. Forgive me. 
> 
> For the sake of the plot, Phil never got stabbed, and this is way after Avengers and IM3.

One week later

Darcy was absentmindedly stirring a bowl of soggy frosted flakes and doodling on her whiteboard when a giant hunk of metal was slammed onto the table. And that’s why she was using a whiteboard. Trying to use a tablet to write had ended disastrously for that piece of technology. The incident had involved fire.

What the fuck? Can’t she at least get through breakfast without…. On.  
A very disheveled Tony dropped onto the chair across from her, following the hunk of metal.

“I’ve failed.”

Woah. Okay. That was something Darcy in a million, gajillion years thought that she’s hear Tony Stark say. To her. The sarcastic assistant she thought he hated Raising her eyebrows she pushed the bowl of disgusting cereal away and made an “elaborate” motion with her right hand.

“I can’t fix JARVIS and I can’t fix you.”

At Darcy’s affronted glare, Tony rephrased.

“Sorry. That came out wrong. It’s like everything about you and electronics are slowly becoming less and less compatible. I’ve tried everything possible to get JARVIS’ sensor to recognize your presence, but every single bit of code I write just melts away ten minutes after I implement it. Hell, I can’t even get Facebook photos of you to stay up for longer than five minutes. “

Hang on. WHAT? Darcy gave him a “huh” look.

“When was the last time you were on facebook? Every single photo that has you in it has disappeared and I can’t re-upload them. And it’s not just that. I can’t get any electronic device to hold, well, anything about you to stay. You don’t even fully show up on surveillance footage anymore. You kind of like…flicker… or something when I can find you. And I can’t fix it. I don’t even have a harebrained scheme with a snow ball’s chance in hell of working.”

As Tony finished that sentence, he got more and more frantic. Running his hands through his hair, he looked at her hopelessly.

Darcy stared at him shocked, more by his appearance and emotional state than what he had just told her. This was the worst she’d seen him since after New York. Granted, she hadn’t seen him much, cause she had been emotionally bullying Clint back into the real world, but still. He’d looked like complete crap then.

Not entirely sure what to do except keep him talking; she pointed at the hunk of metal and made a W with her arms.

“That thing? It was an attempt at a robot voice machine for you. But since I can’t get it to recognize anything about you, including brainwaves, you have to type everything, making it about as efficient as that prehistoric whiteboard you’ve been using.”

Awww. Tony did care. Darcy gave him the world’s biggest smile and wrote, **THANKS** on said whiteboard.

A motion to her left distracted her and had her look away form Tony long enough to register Natasha in SHIELD gear.

The smile melted from her face. Oh fuck. While Darcy couldn’t give a shit about her Internet presence, she knew someone who would. Fury. He already wasn’t exactly her biggest fan. He would use this as an excuse to drag her to HQ and stick her with needles and stuff, probably citing a “national safety risk” or some bullshit like that.

Trying to play it cool, Darcy gave Natasha a hand wave instead of her normal chipper greeting. Natasha seemed to buy it, but who knew with that spy. Though, if she did fool her that would mean Darcy was officially a ninja.

Phew. Apparently Natasha was only passing through and not inclined to chat.

Tony looked back and forth between Darcy and the door that Natasha had exited out of.

“What was that? Normally you try your hardest to get her to talk to you?” Tony asked, bewildered. He had picked up that Darcy had thought of something but not what.

Holding up a finger, she started scribbling on her board.

**FURY. WHAT WILL HE DO WHEN HE REALIZES THAT NO ONE CAN KEEP AN EYE ON ME ELECTRONICALLY.** **IT'S ONE OF THE FEW REASONS HE LETS ME STAY AROUND. AND WHAT ABOUT MY GPS CHIP? DOES THAT STILL WORK?**

She held it up for Tony to read, and if it was possible for his face to get more grim, it did.

“Oh shit. That bastard. I have no idea what he’ll do. “ He leaned back in his chair, compulsively running his hands through his hair now.

“At least I have something I can do now. Fake your presence on surveillance so that you don’t arouse any suspicion from him. And find Clint. He should be back from that mission to Slovakistan or wherever within a day or so. He can give us a better insight into what Fury will do.”

Nodding, and very obviously off in his own mind again, Darcy watched him wander out the door that led to the labs. Sighing, she got up and dumped her even grosser cereal into the sink. Turning, she walked out the door Natasha had just left through.

 

“What exactly are we conspiring to keep from Director Fury?”

Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker. Twirling, with her hand trying to re-start her heart, Darcy saw Natasha standing to the side of the door with a feral smile on her face.


	8. Pow-wows and Plans. Very, Very Bad Plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have full permission to shoot me. Sorry about the time delay. The first half of this chapter was written while stuck on a boat for Christmas, but I got stuck trying to figure out how to bring the end around like I wanted. Hope you like. And again, REALLY SORRY.

Standing in a deserted stairwell with Natasha Romanoff was never something that was on the top of Darcy’s to-do list. She was pretty sure the woman only put up with her cause she recognized Clint probably needed more than one friend in his life. Not that you could call Darcy his _friend_ per say. And now they were in that situation with Darcy as a possible threat to global security. Fun stuff.

 

**IT'S NOT ONLY THAT. THEY CAN'T SEEM TO GET ANYTHING ELECTRONIC TO HOLD A REFERENCE TO ME. PHOTOS ARE THE WORST AND I'M NOT SURE WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ELECTRONIC RECORDS ABOUT ME.**

****

Registering that, Natasha’s other eyebrow went up.

 

“Well that’s interesting. I knew it was something other than him impairing your vocal chords, but I didn’t not expect this.”

 

Woah. That was practically verbose.

 

Wait.

 

**_WAIT._ WHAT DO YOU KNOW? AND WHY DIDN'T I KNOW WHAT YOU KNOW?  
**

****

“Mainly because it’s not knowledge exactly. You may not have noticed, but you can still make noises other than talking which require vocal activity. Grunts, groans etc. Which I thought meant that he did something less physical and more mental. And this lack of electronic presence changes things.”

 

Natasha shifted, analyzing Darcy intently from her corner of the landing.

 

Stunned, Darcy realized that Natasha had a point. Damn. At least she knew it wasn’t something physically wrong with her anymore.

While that was awesome and all, she still needed to know what Natasha was going to do.

 

**BUT WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? I KNOW YOU'VE REALIZED THAT WHAT THIS MEANS IN REGARDS TO SHIELD AND FURY. HE'S NOT GOING TO LIKE THAT HE CAN'T TACK ME IF HE WANTS TO.**

****

“Nothing for now. I know enough about you that I am aware you won’t attempt to harm anyone. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me?”

 

Panicked, Darcy’s eyes widened and she raised her hands in the universal, I-didn’t-do-anything motion.

 

“Thought so. We do however need to figure out what SHIELD will do. I may take orders from Fury but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how he will react to this. Which is badly.”

 

Typical. Of course Fury’s not going to send her on an all expenses paid vacation, to anywhere good at least. She may get one to Guantanamo though.

 

“Call the team and we’ll have a meeting tonight. Minus Coulson of course.”

 

With that, Natasha took two quick steps across the landing, flipped over the railing, tucked herself into a ball and then landed gracefully two stories down.

 

Show off.

 

 

 

Later that night, the Avengers (and support members) were gathering in the expansive TV center below Tony’s penthouse. Normally lounging around in their respective pairs the room’s attitude was quite different tonight. Tony was in the center of floor still banging at a hunk of metal on top of a sheet. Pepper was just looking at him, with an odd amount of understanding and anxiety.  Darcy and Clint were in a corner of the room whispering, Clint’s hands lightly brushing random spots, trying to ease his anxiety.

 

Head currently in his hands, Steve looked up as Bruce held the door open for Natasha.

 

Seeing the last members arrive, Tony popped his head up.

 

“Good. Everybody’s here. Lets get this pow-wow started. “

 

Tony motioned to everyone to sit around him in a circle.

 

“The couches are too far apart to speak of these things. On the floor everybody, we’re going traditional.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Steve sat cross legged on the floor, followed by the others.

 

Taking over for Tony, who was distracted by the grotesque machine, Pepper started talking in full on I-will-control-this-meeting-so-help-me-god voice

 

“Allright, so we’re all aware of the general issue with Darcy, however some new information has come up that requires action. The short version is that whatever Loki did is slowly erasing any electronic trace of Darcy, including video footage.”

 

Bruce’s eyes widened and he looked at Darcy, who was staring at the floor and playing with her hair.

 

“The general consensus is that the outcome of letting SHIELD realize this is not good. We need a plan to keep Fury unaware that there is a problem besides the obvious.”

 

Steve snorts at this.

 

“Are you telling me that we’re going to try and keep a secret from the man who runs the worlds most dangerous and effective spy agency?”

 

Clint looks over from intently staring at a wall, switching his efforts to intently glare at Steve instead. 

 

“Yes. We are.“ he said in a tone of voice that offered no doubt.

 

Trying to keep the peace, Bruce intervenes.

 

“Does anyone have any ideas?”

 

Looking up from his machine, Tony shoots his hand up.

 

“Me! ME!”

 

Exasperated, Bruce just looks at him.

“Well, what is it?”

 

Excitedly, Tony starts rambling off a plan.

 

“I’ve been experimenting with the idea of Life Model Decoys. They’re basically giant robots designed with someone’s face on them, not really sure how to use them in a way that’s not creepy but I’ll figure it out. If I build one for Darcy, we can have images of her online and in video surveillance, that aren’t really her, which should work around the whole disappearing thing and keep Fury unaware. “

 

“How long will that take?” Pepper asks with a glint in her eye.

 

“Eeeerrrr, that’s the bit. It’ll be tricky cause I haven’t even built a prototype yet, there are issues with getting the facial joints to mimick correct emotional motions. And… Well I’m not entirely sure if I could get the robot itself to hold an image of her…”

 

Tony trailed off, leaving Bruce to voice his own issue.

 

“What would happen if someone noticed that there were two Darcy’s floating around? If some SHIELD flunky saw her on a monitor when it’s known that she was somewhere else?”

 

“That would be bad. Very bad.” Looking up from the wall, Clint finally jumps in.  “Fury would probably start looking for who here was performing human cloning.”

 

“So, basically, we need to get Darcy somewhere with no video surveillance while somehow convincing Fury to let her go off alone, while she’s under the influence of the Norse God of Lies.  Steve says, rolling his shoulders and slumping even further.

 

“Sure. That’ll happen. Not.”

 

“Not exactly, Cap.” Clint replies

 

Looking extremely perplexed, Tony pipes in.

 

“Then what exactly is it that we need to do? Cause if I don’t even know what needs to be done, I don’t have a damn clue how I’m going to fix it.”

 

Running his hand through his hair and leaning against Darcy, Clint elaborates.

 

“Every way possible that I’ve explored doesn’t work. At least, not without someone getting in trouble. And usually that’s Darcy. Fury is not going to let her go off alone, even with a SHIELD escort, which we obviously can’t do. So we have to go without Fury’s permission.”

 

Steve sits straight up.

 

“You can’t be serious; that would mean going…”

 

“He is serious. Clint’s right, it’s the only way it’ll work for now. She can’t go without Fury’s permission and she most  certainly cannot go alone.” Natasha confirms.

 

Perplexed, Darcy writes a giant question mark on her white board.

 

Turning towards Darcy, Clint looks her straight in the eye and starts explaining.

 

“We’re going to have to fake me going AWOL with you in collusion. Which is probably going to require involving Coulson by the way. And then run to the last place on the face of the earth Fury would ever look for me, leaving these guys here to clean up the mess.”

 

Well fuck. Darcy knew it was bad, but she did not like this at all.

 

**CLINT. THE OTHER ROOM FOR A MINUTE. PLEASE. WE NEED TO TALK.  
**

Helping her up, they move into the kitchen adjacent to the living room. Large and grandiose, Clint pulls Darcy to the nearest breakfast armchair. Cause god forbid Tony have normal dining chairs.

 

**I WON'T LET YOU DO THIS FOR ME. WHAT-**

“But I can’t –“

 

Holding up a finger, Darcy glares at him. Let her finish writing dammnit.

 

**WHAT YOU HAVE BUILT WITH SHIELD IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME.**

 

“Hell no, it’s not. Fuck, Darcy. I’ve done what I’ve had to protect the world, knowing that one day I would need to use all of that to help someone I loved. My relationship isn’t with SHIELD. It’s with Coulson, and Natasha and all the other agents I’ve worked with. It’s with you. SHIELD can shove it.”

 

Sighing, Clint puts his head in his hand and looks up at her pleadingly.

 

 “I’m not fucking in love with a conceptual organization. It’s all the people. And if those people can’t understand protecting someone they love at all costs, then I don’t know what they’ve been working for all these years.  So please, please don’t fight me on this.”

 

Shocked, Darcy takes his hand as she furiously writes with her other.

 

**WELL.... WHEN YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT. I LOVE YOU TOO. BUT WE NEED TO FIGURE OUT HOW HOW TO BRING YOU BACK FROM THIS. I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU GO AWOL WITHOUT A PLAN TO FIX IT. THERE'S NOT A SNOWBALL'S CHANCE IN HELL THAT I WILL LET IT BE PERMANENT.**

“Okay, just please let me get you out of Fury’s reach. I’m sure all the geniuses out there can come up with a plan. Deal?”

 

Darcy nods and stands up, this time pulling him up instead. She could support him too dammnit, and like hell she wouldn’t find some way to repay him for this.

 

Leading Clint back through the living room doors, Darcy pauses and gives everyone a thumbs up as they enter.

 

With a level of grace that should be illegal, Pepper gets up from the floor and walks over to them.

 

“So it’s a plan. But we’re missing a few details. Like where exactly you can hide from Fury?”

 

Surveying the room, Clint steps up next to Darcy.

 

“The last place he’d ever expect. The old circus.”


	9. Country Songs and Baby Agents

The silence in the living room was straight out of a movie.

 

Everyone there, Pepper included, looked at Clint with varying levels of confusion and horror. Tony looked straight up gleeful.

 

“Clint had a circus? Why did no one tell me? Were you a clown?” Tony asked with a hint of manic excitement. “Were there photos?”

 

Snorting, Darcy looked at Stark and made a question mark with her hands.

 

“Really Stark, that’s what you got out of this? Clowns?” Steve glared at Tony.

 

“I don’t know the backstory here, but I’m assuming this isn’t exactly high on the list of your favorite places?”

 

“No, it is not.” Natasha took one step forward and looked directly at Clint.

 

«Вы знаете, это означает, что вы можете иметь дело с вашим братом снова, не так ли?»

 

“Tasha, you know that my Russian sucks.”

 

«Да, но вы знаете больше, чем кто-либо другой. И я предполагаю, что вы не сказали Дарси о нем. Будьте осторожны. И у вас есть план, да?»

 

“Yes, I have a plan. That mainly involves everyone’s acting ability and Tony’s special effect talents.”

 

Leaning forward, Pepper looks at Clint.

 

“What do you need?”

 

Sighing, Clint looked at Stark.

 

“I need you to create a fake Loki and magic glow stick of destiny – ”

 

“ALLRIGHT! I knew I would need those decoys after all.”

 

“-And I need cash and an untraceable car, Pep.”

 

“Anything you need Clint. Anything.”

 

Still confused, Steve looks at everyone in the room.

 

“But what are you going to do with them? How does this help keep Fury off your trail?”

“We’re going to make Fury, and SHIELD, think that both Darcy and I have been mindjacked a second time around. It’s the only way to go AWOL with some hope of Fury letting us both back in with our heads still attached. It makes sense. Darcy here, as we have established has already been influenced by Loki. This will just make it look like everything is part of some giant scheme by Loki. Which, if you get mentally twisty about it, this whole thing really is. ”

 

Stunned, Bruce’s mouth literally hung open. Stark wasn’t far behind.

 

“Gotta admit Legolas, that wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.”

 

“I know. And what I have in mind is going to be tricky. Even for us.”

* * *

 

That poor baby Agent, Natasha thought as she walked down the sterile SHIELD hallway.

 

Having to tell Fury that a member of the Avengers and his girlfriend had been mind controlled, again, was probably enough to give him nightmares for months.

 

Plus there was the whole bit where no one noticed for eight hours, because said agent on surveillance duty had encountered a very… enthusiastic redhead.

 

She wasn’t expecting him to be quite so easy to distract, but it worked well for them. By the time he had gotten through the footage he missed during that, uh, entertaining escapade, and made his way past the red tape surrounding Fury, Darcy and Clint had had at least twelve hours to get out of the tri-state area.

 

Hopefully they had made it to Ohio by now at the least. No one knew exactly where the old circus was, both as part of plausible deniability, and the fact that Clint himself didn’t know exactly.

 

Finding that footage that still had Darcy in it was a stroke of luck. From there, all Tony had to do was add in some magic blue glowing light and then layer over a hodge-podge conversation constructed from recordings of Loki’s voice.

 

According to Tony it was a good thing that Darcy couldn’t speak because he couldn’t get more than ten solid seconds of her to work with.

 

Swiping her ID card and running a fingerprint scan, Natasha walked into the Level 8 operations room. Chaos reigned. Every agent not actively talking to a contact was furiously scanning three continents worth of facial recognition software, trying to get a whiff of where those two had gone.

 

Smirking, Natasha just watched and grinned. This was going to be fun.

 

* * *

 

This was so not fun.

 

Eight hours and three states later Darcy was bored. Clint had been driving the beat up Camry Pepper had somehow gotten from them, and wasn’t very into letting her share the wheel.

 

He had a point. She didn’t show up on surveillance video much anymore, and if anyone happened to be watching a main freeway and noticed a car driving itself….

 

Well, Fury would be on that like white on rice.

 

But she was still bored. She couldn’t even whine at Clint about it. Like sarcasm, pathetic didn’t convey via the written word very well. She’d started adding emoticons to her whiteboard messages, but there was only so much she could do.

 

Making horse noises with her lips, Darcy looked at Clint and pouted.

 

“What?”

 

**I’M BORED.**

“Okay….?”

 

**ENTERTAIN ME.**

**“** Uhhh, listen to the radio?”

 

**DUDE, ALL THAT’S ON AROUND HERE IS COUNTRY.**

“Yeah…? I like George Strait.”

 

**NO. THAT IS NEITHER OKAY NOR ENTERTAINING.**

Grinning, Clint reached over and turned up the volume.

 

Oh it was on. Giving him a dirty look, Darcy very eloquently made three obscene hand gestures.

 

“What? Driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

 

Now smiling like the Cheshire cat, Clint turned away to merge onto a different freeway and missed the absolutely vicious glare Darcy threw his way.

 

Why did she ever make him sit through eight seasons of that show?

 

Looking out the window, Darcy sighed as she saw the sign.

 

_Ohio Welcomes You!_

It was going to be a looooonnnnggg way to Iowa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the whole escape thing in my mind was fun. I'm going to start playing with timelines and perspectives now, mainly switching between Darcy/Clint and the main team. Also, if there's enough interest I'm considering writing the scene with Fury and the Baby Agent. Lemme know. Sorry about the references, it fit with the scene and I couldn't not do it. 
> 
> The Russian actually had a plot point in it so here it is:
> 
> 1)You know this means you may have to deal with your brother again, right?
> 
> 2)Yes, but you know more than anyone else. And I'm guessing you haven't told Darcy about him. Be careful. And you have a plan, yes?


	10. Why did Darcy think this was a good idea?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's PINK. Why Clint. WHY.

_Bumfuck nowhere Iowa_

Two days later and Darcy was ready to kill George Strait, Carrie Underwood and Taylor Swift. Seriously, who thinks Taylor Swift is country? She doesn’t even like the damn music and she thinks that they’ve been swindled.

 

Swinging her legs on the bar stool like a five year old, Darcy tunes into the conversation Clint is having with the rather… unusual bartender.

 

“Yes, I know she doesn’t exactly advertise since the last time. “

 

“Buddy I got better things to do than keep track of that witch”

 

Clint rubs his brow in exasperation.

 

“Listen, I get that you don’t know where she is but if you DO see Marcella can you tell her that I need to call in that favor from a while back?”

 

“If I see her.”

 

Jeez dude. Helpful much?

 

“Yes. If you see her.”

 

“Nyuh.”

 

Was that grunt meant to be a yes? Apparently so cause Clint turns towards Darcy and holds his hand out.

 

“Allright Darce, motel time. We gotta wait around here for word to get back to Marcella that I’m looking for her.”

 

**WHO’S MARCELLA?**

**“** It’s complicated.”

 

Darcy gives him the now well practiced, _Really?,_ look.

 

**CAN’T BE MORE COMPLICATED THAN RUNNING ACROSS COUNTRY WITH AN INVISIBLE WOMAN EVADING A GLOBAL SPY AGENCY WHO THINK’S WE’VE BEEN MIND CONTROLLED FOR A SECOND TIME BY AN INVADING NORSE GOD.**

“Well, when you put it like that…. Marcella is a lady who runs a circus that owes me a favor. I’m hoping she’ll give me a job for a while.”

 

**WHAT WHY?**

**“** Cause sweetheart, no one blinks twice at strange shit done in a circus, along with the fact that technological security is non existent. No one wants to bother putting up decent surveillance cameras when you just have to take them down again in two days. Trust me.”

 

**I SEEM TO BE DOING THAT A LOT LATELY.**

“I know, and thank you.” Clint reaches over the car console and squeezes her hand.

“There are things that I can’t and really, really shouldn’t tell you about my history with Marcella. So thank you for accepting that.”

 

**I NEVER SAID I ACCEPTED THAT BIT. WAIT. DID YOU SLEEP WITH HER?**

“WHAT? Marcella? Gods no. It’d be like sleeping with Jane. Or Pepper.”

 

Darcy scrunches up her nose.

 

**PLEASE NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN.**

**“** Not planning on it.”

 

**BUT REALLY. I DON’T ACCEPT IT, BUT I DO UNDERSTAND WHY IT’S NECESSARY. WHICH I GUESS MEANS ACCEPTANCE? UGH, PHILOSOPHY. BUT I DO EXPECT YOU TO TELL THE MOMENT I NEED TO KNOW SOMETHING, OKAY?**

**“** What’s your definition of need to know? Cause I think we run on different levels of that. I do, or did, work for a top-secret extra-governmental agency”

 

**IF NOT KNOWING IS GOING TO CAUSE ME, YOU OR SOMEONE INNOCENT TO GET HURT. OR, YOU KNOW IS DECIDEDLY MORALLY QUESTIONABLE. YOU’RE AN ADULT, JUST USE YOUR OWN, DEFICIENT, JUDGEMENT.**

 

And at that Darcy’s last Expo marker died. Shit. Shaking it around she tries to eeek out a few last words, but it’s a no-go Lovely, now truly mute until they can find a Wal-mart.

 

Galncing at Clint, she waits for him to complete the left hand turn before waving the expo marker in his face.

 

“What. Oh, it’s out? Once we get settled, I’ll add those to the food supply list. And speaking of….”

 

Darcy looks out the window to see the motel. It was pink. Very, very pink. And retro. And dear lord the name. _Ms. May’s Pink Paradise: Home of award winning strawberry muffins._

 

Darcy just looks at Clint like, dear god why. WHY.

 

“You gotta admit it’s the last place Fury would expect us. And besides, if Ms. May is still actually running the place she makes fabulous muffins. “

 

But it’s PINK. Darcy would’ve at least thought he’d try to find a purple one if it had to be hideous.

 

Unable to actually write words Darcy just waves her hands at the entire place.

 

Snorting, Clint lifts his bow case out of the trunk.

 

“Listen, wait here and I’ll get us checked in and see if she has any of those muffins”

 

With a wink and a shit-eating grin, he saunters away from the car and into the cottage/diner/what themed main office building.


	11. Tiny arrows and one badass lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm totally mixing my own headcanon and marvel canon that I can find on the circus. Marcella is a real person but I'm taking a few liberties with her relationship with Clint.

**SO WHO’S MARCELLA?**

Clint had just gotten back from an uneventful trip to the one Wal-mart in the county, and had brought Darcy back some more Expo markers. Darcy was sitting on the one motel bed (pink, of course), and munching on a muffin (also pink) from the basket of them Clint had been given.

 

Seriously. How do you make a muffin that shade of pink?

 

“Argh, Darce. I thought I told you I couldn’t tell you.”

 

**CAN’T TELL ME OR DON’T WANT TO TELL ME? SEE, I WAS THINKING WHILE YOU WERE AT WALMART AND IF FURY DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT THE CIRCUS THAT THIS MARCELLA RUNS AND WE’RE HIDING AT, IT MEANS THAT THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN WITH SHIELD AND THUS, IS NOT CLASSIFIED.**

**“** It could be from my days in the military, you know.”

 

 

**BUT IS IT?**

 

Running his hands through his hair, Clint looked over at Darcy from his chair by the window.

 

“No. It’s not classified. I just…. Really don’t like that time period of my life.”

 

Sensing the angst, Darcy unfolded her legs, walked over to Clint and hugged him while dropping the whiteboard in his lap.

**I GET THAT CLINT, AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME ALL THE DETAILS BUT I SHOULD PROBABLY KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT THE WOMAN THAT’S GOING TO BE SAVING OUR ASSES. IF ONLY SO THAT I DON’T FUCK IT UP.**

“I didn’t go directly into foster care as a kid.”

 

Holy crap.

 

“The next two years after my parents… I spent them with my…. brother at this circus. “

 

HOLY DOUBLE CRAP. Don’t freak on him Darcy, this is obviously a huge thing. Lord knows she hadn’t told him everything about her mother.

 

**YOU HAVE A BROTHER?**

 

“Had.”

 

 

“I learned how to shoot like I do there and… other things. But Marcella was the daughter of the guy who owned the circus at the time. I guess she was kind of a sister to me..? I mean she was nicer than the rest of the people so… yeah. “

 

Resting her head on his, Darcy’s arms tightened around him. Snorting softly, Clint reached up and squeezed one of her hands in acknowledgement.

 

“She was quite the feisty kid. She tripped me into a pile of elephant… uhhh… dirt once because I’d taken her only doll and put it on top of their trailer. But she always had a better mind for running that circus than her old man did. He was a right bastard actually. “

 

**DIRT? I’M AN ADULT DUDE. YOU CAN USE BAD WORDS.**

Chuckling, Clint pulled her into his lap, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

 

“Yes, you are very much an adult. But that’s what we called it at the time. The bearded lady that was in the crew tried to keep us kids at least somewhat civilized.”

 

Adjusting Darcy against his shoulder, Clint fell silent, absent-mindedly playing with her hair.

 

After a few minutes Darcy decided it was okay to keep poking.

 

**SO WHY DOES MARCELLA OWE YOU A FAVOR?**

Startled, Clint looked down at her.

 

“Oh right, well like I said her dad was a complete ass. He made some enemies that tried to take the circus from her, and I brought some friends and helped kick them out for good.”

 

**AWW THE WHITE KNIGHT.**

**“** Please never think that Marcella’s a damsel, Darcy. You two will probably be thick as thieves once she learns about your taser. And honestly, if you can make her like you, it will be better for us. No one on the crew will mess with you if they think Marcella’s watching. She controls the paychecks after all.”

 

Okay, this was too much serious memory lane for one angst session. Grinning, Darcy pops up from his lap and runs over to her duffle with whiteboard in tow. Rummaging around towards the bottom of her atrocious packing job, she punches the air when she finally freaking finds it.

 

A tiny toy archery set she'd found at Dollar Tree. With Clint still looking out the window, Darcy almost takes off a finger trying to get it out of the hard plastic without him hearing.

 

Seriously, who makes this stuff for kids?

 

Stealthily moving (or more like hiding) behind the bed, Darcy nocks one of the suction cup arrows and fires.

 

BULLSEYE!

 

“Jesus!” Whipping around Clint reaches up into his hair and find the plastic arrow suctioned to the back of his head.

 

Throwing both hands in the air in celebration, Darcy grins at him.

 

**NOW WHO’S THE BEST ARCHER IN THE WORLD?**

Tumbling over the bed, Clint snags Darcy around the waist and pins her to the floor.

 

“Oh really? You think that’s all that the title requires?”

 

Still smiling, Darcy cocks an eyebrow at him.

 

“Oh there’s so much more training it requires. Like…. Intensive training to withstand the worst torture of all. “

 

Letting go of her hands, Clint skims his hands down her body, stopping at her stomach.

 

“Oh yes. Tickling.”

 

Oh shit.

Clint brushes over her sides and starts moving his hands around.

 

Squeaking Darcy tries to curl up into a little ball while silently laughing. She succeeded in blocking the worst of it, but Clint was having none of it. Grabbing her around the waist he tosses her up onto the bed and moves down to her feet.

 

After a minute, Darcy sits up breathing heavily and makes a stop motion at him.

 

The bastard just looks at her from the floor with supreme satisfaction.

 

**MERCY. I TAKE IT BACK. NO ONE CAN COMPETE WITH YOU.**

Grabbing her ankle, he tugs her back down onto the floor and into his lap again.

 

“That’s right. I am the king. Bow down to me.”

 

Rolling her eyes, at his ridculousness. Darcy scoots over and punches him in the leg.

 

“Heeeeyyyyy that hurt.”

 

Macho man.

 

_THUNK. THUNK._

Moving into a crouch, Clint pulls Darcy fully below the bed and puts a finger to his lips.

 

_THUNK._

“Yo, Hawk! I heard you’re looking for me. Open up.”


	12. Nursery Rhymes and Death Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe you guys an explanation. You may have read in the comments, but I'm doing a year abroad in Spain, which means I'm currently spending most of my life with my nose in an english/spanish dictionary. Doesn't leave much time for writing. Sorry! I haven't forgotten y'all, I swear.
> 
> Also, I was not planning on Wade coming in or making Clint so much of a dick. He kinda did it on his own. I swear I'm not trying to turn him into a complete jackass. I'll have him rescue a kitten from a tree or something later.

“….. and now we’re here.”

 

As Clint trails off his narrative of the last few weeks, Marcella leans back on two legs of her chair and raises her hands behind her head.

 

“Well Clint. I’m not surprised. You always manage to attach yourself to people who have serious trouble on their ass. Barney for one. “

 

Standing up from the edge of the motel bed, Clint looks grim.

 

“Marcella, you know what that was and why. Now are you gonna let us crash in the circus or not?”

 

“Jeez, Clint chill. I didn’t say no. Things have been a little boring around here anyway. What the hell.”

 

“Oh boring huh? And this goodness of your heart has nothing to do with owing me one?”

 

“Nope not a tad. Cause see, Clint, from your story you can’t be too visible. Which means no fancy archery. Without that part of your pony show, I’ll loose money on you.”

 

Slumping back onto the bed, Clint nods.

 

“I knew that was coming.”

 

With a mischievous grin on her face, Marcella mimicks his nod.

 

“I figured. And since you can’t do that, well, I’ve remembered how much you liked elephants as a kid. And cleaning up after them.”

 

“Shit, Marce, come on.”

 

Giggling Darcy chimes in.

 

**WHAT ABOUT ME? PLEASE TELL ME THAT I DON’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH ELEPHANT POOP.**

Still grinning, Marcella shakes her head.

 

“Keep you behind the scenes? Nu-uh. Girl you are way too pretty for that, even if you can’t talk. “

 

Thunking her chair fully back on the floor, Marcella plants her booted feet wide and leans forward towards Darcy.

 

“Can you swim? And how do you feel about mermaids? Our current mermaid exhibit is missing a key part. The mermaid.”

 

**UM. _YES._ HOW OFTEN DOES A GIRL GET TO BE A MERMAID. I’M IN. **

**“** Wait, Marce. Sticking her in the spotlight when we’re trying to hide her? The patrons take so many fucking photos.”

 

**CLINT COME ON PLEASE? I GET TO BE A MERMAID.**

“I’m serious Darce. “

 

“Clint, I wasn’t born yesterday. The mermaid tank is dark and the wig that goes with the costume can easily be draped across her face. It’s so gross and green that no one will notice. That and I’ll prohibit photography inside. Make up some BS about mermaids being sensitive to light. It’ll be fine.”

 

“Maaaarrrrrrccce….”

 

“Cliiiiinnnttttttt… See, I can do it too.”

Aww the ducet tones of siblings.

 

**I CAN TELL YOU TWO GREW UP TOGETHER. AND I THINK IT’S A GOOD IDEA. FURY WILL EXPECT US TO GO SO DEEP UNDERGROUND THAT I’D NEVER GO OUTSIDE.**

 

Giving her a look, Clint acquiesces

 

“Okay fine.”

 

“There is one other thing I haven’t mentioned.”

  

“What is it Marce?”

 

“Weeeellll, we’re a little tight on space in RV’s right now. Which means that I can’t get you two lovebirds together.”

 

**OH. THAT’S NOT THAT BAD. IT’S KINDA EXPECTED THAT IT’LL BE A LITTLE ROUGH. I MEAN WE ARE ON THE RUN FROM A SUPER SECRET –**

Clint slaps his hand across her mouth.

 

“She doesn’t need to know that much detail Darcy.”

 

Fucking military and their need to know.

 

“Clint, I’m not a complete moron. I can put pieces together. But thank you for leaving me plausible deniability.”

 

“As I was saying, that means that Darcy’s gonna have to bunk with our current bearded lady, Debbi. And, well, Clint. You get to move in with Wade.”

 

“FUCKING SHIT. Wade’s back? There goes any chance at staying under the radar.”

 

“Aww he’s not that bad. Makes life interesting. You know him, just don’t take his tacos and you’re good.”

 

**SOUNDS EASY ENOUGH. CAN’T BE THAT BAD RIGHT CLINT?**

“Ohhh he can be. Makes Doom look sane. And like a GQ model. “

 

CRACK

 

Marcella slaps him across the face with amazing force.

 

Woah, fuck dude. What did Clint do?

 

“Clint. That was low. Even for you. He’s a good man for all that he is. You know what happened with his daughter. Get the stick out of your ass. “

 

Stunned, Clint hangs his head.

 

“Shit yeah, you’re right. I’m being a dick. I forgot how good you are at calling me out on that.”

 

**UHHHH. WHAT DID I MISS? WHO’S WADE? AND WHY DID YOU SLAP CLINT? NOT THAT I’M ARGUING ABOUT THAT, HE DOES HAVE A TENDENCY TO BE A JACKASS.**

“Hey -!”

 

**CLINT, I LOVE YOU, BUT I ALSO KNOW YOU. YOUR MOUTH CAN GET WAAAYYY TOO SASSY. AND THAT’S COMING FROM ME.**

**“** Hah. She does know you pretty well after all. I slapped him because Wade was badly injured in an accident where he also lost his daughter. He went a little…. Different after that. But the man has a good heart and also happens to be the best swordsman I’ve ever seen. He needed a place to crash so I let him.”

 

“Yes. I’m a dick. The man creeps me out, okay? He never stays still and makes concentrating on shots hard. Can we move on please? To the part where we get out of this freaking pink palace of doom?”

 

**WAIT, I THOUGHT YOU LIKED THIS PLACE? AND THE MUFFINS. WHY HAVE YOU BEEN SHOVING THEM AT ME SO MUCH?**

“Cause I actually hate them, but the only computer with internet is in the office and Ms. May shoves them at me every time I go in there. Ever try to say no to a cute old lady?”

 

Sigh. That man is the world’s weirdest combination of jerk and softie.

 

**WAIT. DOES THAT MAKE YOU A MUFFIN MAN NOW?**

Clint just flops back on the bed, with his legs hanging off the edge, and mutters to himself.

 

“Why do I always end up with insane women?”

 

Snorting, Marcella stands up and taps her boots on the floor.

 

“Cause we’re the most fun, I thought I taught you that. And I’m totally calling you that now.”

 

Rolling his eyes to the side, Clint glares at her.

 

“Do it in front of anyone else and I will kill you.”

 

“Soooo now that we’ve made it to the homicide threats part of our conversation, can we move you two in? I am a busy business woman after all.”

 

Jumping up, Darcy grabs her single duffel.

 

Thank god. There’s only so much pink a girl can stand.

 

**LET’S BLOW THIS MUFFIN STAND.**


	13. Stars, Brunello and Courtly Graces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otherwise known as how Clint and Darcy met by being completely rude goofballs to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised this like two weeks ago, sorry! It only takes a new Avengers movie and a bottle of wine for me to get a decent length chapter out. XD. 
> 
> This was not originally what I had planned to write but, hey, ALL THE FLUFF.

They didn’t have much to pack, so Marcella hung around, citing saving trips and gas.

 

“So Darcy. How’d you meet this carnival act? And then end up on the run from lord-only-knows who with him?” Marcella asked with a wry grin.

 

 

**WELL I CAN’T ANSWER THAT SECOND ONE, BUT THE FIRST IS ACTUALLY KIND OF A FUNNY STORY. IT ALL STARTED BECAUSE I TASED MY BOSS’ BOYFRIEND, AND THEN DRANK A THIRTY YEAR OLD BOTTLE OF WINE.**

**_____**

It was Darcy’s first day in the tower and Darcy Lewis was most definitely annoyed with the God of Thunder. And SHIELD. And her mother. Generally everyone really.  Which included that traitorous little Hydra sneak Ian. The lying, deceiving little bastard had looked so…so… incompetent when she hired him.

 

So basically Darcy was hating on the world that had left her to deal with evil dark elves (lord of the rings had nothing on those guys), a mother that made no sense, and an entire lab of heavy equipment to unpack by herself.

 

It was one of those days. Specifically, one of those days where Darcy had somehow ended up being left to move heavy equipment into Avengers Tower by herself.

 

Don’t get her wrong. Darcy was all for independence and self-reliance, but a decent pair of biceps would have been seriously handy.

 

After having moved half the equipment in, almost breaking two metal contraptions and a toe, Darcy decided it was time for a break. One that involved brownies.

 

“Alright.  There has to be a kitchen in this monstrosity somewhere.” Darcy told herself with her hands on her hips, surveying the disaster that would be Jane’s lab eventually.

 

“Indeed there is Ms. Lewis,” came a smooth voice from seemingly nowhere. “In fact, I can direct you to it.”

 

Well that was weird.

 

“Am I hallucinating? Have the last three weeks really been just some sort of nightmare? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure the ceiling just spoke to me.” Darcy said to herself, backing slowly towards the door with her hand over her heart, eyes wide.

 

“Have no fear Ms. Lewis, you are not having a neurological malfunction,” said the ceiling. Which thankfully hadn’t formed lips or anything, which was a check in the not-hallucinating column.

 

“Did Mr. Stark inform you that I also inhabit this building as his personal assistant-slash-butler?” the voice inquired.

 

“That would most likely be a no, considering I have never actually met Mr. Stark.” Darcy responded, her back firmly against the outside wall now.

 

If she had been questioning her life choices before, this took it to a whole new level.

 

“I… see.” Answered the voice. “In that case Ms. Lewis, let me introduce myself. I am Mr. Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s personal assistant, butler and overall housekeeper. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

The voice paused while a machine in the corner overcame its duct tape casing and fell apart with a loud clang.

 

“ I apologize for the oversight regarding your orientation. May I be of assistance?”

 

That… was unexpected.

 

“Oh. Uh. Okay. Well, okay then. Nice to meet you too Mr. Jarvis.”

 

God forbid let it be said Mrs. Lewis had raised her daughter without basic manners.

 

“Thank you Ms. Lewis.”

 

Darcy’s stomach growled.

 

Still unsettled, but at least convinced she hadn’t gone off the deep end, Darcy tried to use her brain.

 

“Could you possibly direct me to that kitchen you mentioned?” she requested.

 

“It would be my pleasure. The communal kitchen is three stories up, and through the formal living room. The door on the far right of the room, next to the Velasquez will put you directly in the kitchen. I will take the liberty of pre-entering the security codes for you.”

 

Wait. A Velasquez? Damn Stark had some good art taste. Or maybe it was Ms. Potts.  

 

Still backed against the wall, Darcy asked one more question

 

“What security codes?”

 

“Oh yes. As you have not yet met Mr. Stark, I inferred that this oversight would also have resulted in you not obtaining the appropriate security codes required to move between floors on this level. It is a security precaution, as other parts of the building are open to the public.”

 

“Oh. That makes sense. “

 

Straightening her shoulders, Darcy took a deep breath, looked to her left and turned the door handle.

 

“You said three floors up, yes?” she confirmed, right before she left the room.

 

“Indeed I did,” Mr. Jarvis confirmed.

 

Three floors. She could do this.

Taking the marble stairs slowly, Darcy passed all sorts of fancy things decorating the stairwell. A Ming vase in the corner, a tablet marked with what looked like hieroglyphics framed next to a piece of the original altar of St. Paul’s Cathedral, all reminding Darcy of how out of place she was here.

 

The only realized what half of those were, was because Mr. Jarvis told her.

 

Finally arriving at the third floor, Darcy made her way through the living room, with a quick glance at the aforementioned Velasquez, and into the kitchen.

 

Which, thankfully, was organized almost exactly like her aunt’s.

 

Quickly ascertaining that there were no brownie supplies buried anywhere in the custom cabinetry, Darcy re-evaluated her expectations.

 

“Mr. Jarvis, what’s a good substitute for brownies that this kitchen actually has?” Darcy questioned with her head buried in a cabinet full of boxes of three-year-old quinoa.

 

“As I am not yet calibrated to your preferences, Ms. Lewis, I am forced to rely on my knowledge of Mr. Stark’s. “ The voice paused.

 

“According to the delivery invoices, there should be a thirty year old Brunello in the wine cooler.” Mr. Jarvis continued.

 

Oh. Huh. That should not have been surprising considering the contents of Stark’s stairwell.

 

“That will do most splendidly Mr. Jarvis.” Darcy confirmed.

 

Grabbing the bottle from the translucent refrigerator, Darcy made a pit stop for a wine glass and a corkscrew, along with an apple and then trudged back down three stories to the lab.

 

Once there, she glared at the pieces of machinery yet to be unpacked, opened the bottle and flopped down in the middle of the cement floor.

 

“Hey Mr. Jarvis, I’m guessing since you appear to be a computer and like everywhere around here, that you could maybe project the New Mexican star-scape on this absurdly bland ceiling?”

 

“Your wish is my command Ms. Lewis.”

 

Which is how Darcy met her first Avenger half an hour later, halfway through a bottle of wine and lying on the floor in a pitch-black room.

 

The first one back from Fury’s stupid management integration and training exercise, Clint stomps downstairs to the lab and angrily punches in his code, and flings open the door with a thunk.

 

“Goddamnit it Stark, you told me that was a weapons exercise, not a human resources flunky being ambit- “

 

 There goes Darcy’s peace and quiet. Maybe if she just lies still the shouty man will go away. It seemed like a very good plan to Darcy, one that didn’t involve people making her do her job.

 

At least, it was a good idea until the shouty man starts to stomp angrily around in the dark, stepping on something squishy, and something else that crunches?

 

“OWWW WHAT THE FUCK DUDE? That was a seriously good bottle of wine! AND MY LEG!”

 

“Jarvis, lights please.” Clint requests forcefully.

 

As Jarvis slowly brings the lights up, Darcy comes into his focus, sitting up awkwardly, legs splayed out, while protecting her glass of wine in her left hand. Next to her is the smashed neck of the Brunello bottle, and a growing puddle of red wine.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Clint rudely inquires, looking down at the vaguely familiar disheveled brunette on the floor. 

 

Fed up beyond belief, Darcy growls, and athletically stands up by tucking her legs beneath her and rising, all while keeping the glass of wine steady.

 

Score 1 in the grace column at least.

 

“Who am I? WHO AM I?” She growls at him, stalking closer to him with every syllable.

 

“The better question,” she continues “is who the fuck is the man who stepped on me in the middle of the floor and didn’t even ask if I was allriiigfsdagjfdg-“

 

Darcy cuts off with an unintelligible shriek, having stepped in the pool of red wine now slicking up the smooth concrete floor. Falling backwards with no hope of recovery, Darcy drops the glass of wine and futilely tries to rotate to her front to catch herself on her elbows.

 

Grace score, negative fifty bajillion.

 

Seeing the impending disaster, Clint lunges forward and wraps an arm around her waist, letting her momentum pull him into a weird tango-style dip position, with Darcy’s head a mere inches from the concrete floor.

 

Wide-eyed Darcy looks at him with a combination of gratitude and adrenaline.

 

Heaving her back into a standing position, Clint brushes some glass off her shoulders, then runs his hands into her hair to check the back of her head.

 

Even though he’s still manhandling her, Darcy only just stares at him in shock. Unknown shouty man had just saved her from a serious concussion at the least, and a major head injury at the worst. Kind of made up for the bottle of wine, which really she shouldn’t complain about ‘cause she took it from someone else in the first place.

 

When he pulls her closer to peer at her head some more, Darcy comes back to her senses. Slapping at his hands, she backs up a step and tugs at her now mottled red white shirt, tugging it into position with a tiny frown.

 

“I’m guessing from the demonstrated damsel-saving abilities, that you’re one of my new super heroic roommates?”

 

When he frowns at her question, Darcy answers his previous inquiry with a huff, embarrassed to have flailed so badly in front of the man who was probably an Avenger.

 

“I am Lady Darcy Lewis, Taserer of Thor, Friend of Fandral the Fine, Assistant to the Lady-Scientist Jane Foster, and most likely your new housemate, depending on who the hell you are.”

 

Clint’s frown disappears as she explains, and quirks up into a grin.  Playing along with her obvious attempt to rescue an injured pride, Clint dips again, but this time into an extravagant bow reminiscent of a medieval court jester mocking his king.

 

“Well my lady, I am _Sir_ Clint Barton, former minion of SHIELD, known to many very impressed damsels, as Hawkeye. “ He announces with a salacious waggle of his eyebrows.

 

Failing to keep a straight face, Darcy breaks and starts laughing so hard she cries.

 

Which is how Jane, followed by the rest of the team, finds them a moment later, with Darcy bent in half crying and Clint stuck awkwardly in his bow, grinning like a madman, surrounded by glass and dark red wine.

 

“Typical.” Jane mutters, surveying the disaster. Grabbing one of the many rolls of duct tape laying around, she chucks it at her newly minted assistant.

 

“Darcy, get a grip and get back to work! “ She shouts, walking around them to the machine that had fallen apart in the corner.

 

Wheezing and wiping her eyes, Darcy straightens up and offers he arm to Clint, who has also recovered from his bow.

 

“Well, _Sir Clinton_ , would you care to escort this damsel through the very dangerous adventure of setting up a science lab?”

 

With a grin, he takes her arm and steps forward.

 

“It is a most perilous task,” he agrees as they both survey the mess to be dealt with, “but it would be my honor Lady Darcy.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! I don't have a beta and I wrote this at night on a whim, so please forgive any minor mistakes. If you see any glaring errors, please let me know.


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